


Lucky (to call you mine)

by Bohemian (Linguam)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: #SaveShadowhunters, Fluff, Good Boyfriend Magnus Bane, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Stubborn Alec Lightwood, Tired Alec Lightwood, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 08:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18049085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Bohemian
Summary: In which they both want to do what is best for the other.





	Lucky (to call you mine)

**Author's Note:**

> This one's been lying on my laptop collecting dust for I don't even know how long. But I felt like we needed some fluff (or at least I do), so I brushed it off, fixed it up a bit, and here we are. Enjoy!

Magnus is in the middle of translating an intractable piece of ancient text for an even more intractable client when Alec walks through the front door.

Or, maybe _walks_ isn’t quite the right word, Magnus amends, as he tracks the Shadowhunter’s heavy, weary progress from the hallway into the living room where Magnus himself is perched in one of the armchairs.

“Alexander,” he greets, throwing a quick glance at the time. “You’re early; our reservation isn’t until eight. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Alec grunts something unintelligible and—with an uncharacteristic lack of grace—flops down onto the couch. He burrows his face into the plush, ornate pillows and groans.

Magnus quirks an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I didn’t quite catch that.”

Alec just gives another grunt, and Magnus’s lips twitch in a not-entirely-unsympathetic smile. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks at the Institute, and the time Alec hasn’t spent in his office doggedly going through paperwork, he’s been out on patrol or in Idris for some quarterly proficiency evaluation. The only time Magnus has seen him has been if he himself has woken during the night and caught the Shadowhunter slumbering next to him—more often than not still fully clothed.

Alec turns his head and blinks his eyes open, gracing Magnus with a pair of beautiful, if slightly bleary, hazels.

“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” he mutters. “One more incorrectly filed report and I would’ve punched the next person walking into my office. I know you still have work to do, but…”

Magnus waves him off.

“You are always welcome here, Alexander, you know that.”

Alec smiles tiredly, and his eyes fall shut again.

Magnus takes a moment to study him, the shadows beneath his eyes and the tension around them, the stubble suggesting he hasn’t shaven for at least three days.

“You know, we could always stay in tonight.”

Alec makes a soft, inquisitive noise, clearly already on the verge of sleep.

“Our reservation,” Magnus clarifies, fondness flooding his chest with warmth. “We could cancel and order in instead. If you’re too tired…”

Alec shakes his head.

“No. We’ve planned this for weeks,” he says, and by which he means that Magnus has planned this for weeks, having talked about this particular Greek restaurant for well over a month. He burrows deeper into the couch in a way that will definitely result in the most adorable bedhead, and mumbles, “I just need to sleep for a few minutes.”

“Alec, truly. We don’t have to—”

“We’re going,” comes the grumpy reply from somewhere within the mound of pillows.

Magnus rolls his eyes at the use of what he has secretly labeled Alec’s _Head of the Institute_ -voice. Truly, to be on the receiving end of this self-sacrificing streak is as humbling as it is infuriating.

Within seconds, Alec’s breaths have deepened, sleep claiming him. The absence of those endearing little snores that Magnus has become so fond of further proves just how exhausted his poor Shadowhunter is.

Magnus sacrifices a few minutes of worktime to simply watch him, soft and mellow, completely at ease in what has slowly but steadily stopped being _Magnus’s_ home and turned into _their_ home—the thought alone still causes butterflies to flutter in Magnus’s stomach—before he reluctantly turns back to his translation.

He’s so absorbed by the task that he jumps when Alec’s phone goes off, sometime later.

 _Of course he set an alarm_ , Magnus thinks, rolling his eyes. He throws a quick glance at his own phone. They’ll need to leave soon.

But Alec’s phone keeps ringing, and the Shadowhunter in question doesn’t so much as twitch from his sprawled-out position on the couch.

Magnus frowns, and reaches to turn it off.

Although he’s sure— _fairly_ sure—it’s unwarranted, Magnus gets up and settles himself on the floor next to the couch, blue magic sparking from his fingers and running down the length of his boyfriend’s body.

He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief. No injuries. Only exhaustion.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that Magnus can count on one hand—without having to use all of his fingers—how many times Alec has slept through his alarm, and that’s enough for him to make a split decision.

After taking a moment to gently card his fingers through Alec’s raven curls, he gets up and moves to the kitchen. A quick phone call and a magical change of outfit later, Magnus returns to the living room to find Alec having rolled onto his back, lips slightly parted and breathing deep.

Fondness washes over him, so sudden and powerful it’s almost nauseating. Magnus carefully lowers himself down beside Alec on the too narrow couch, arms circling the Shadowhunter’s waist and head nuzzling into his shoulder.

Alec makes a sleepy, contented noise, but doesn’t wake, and Magnus closes his eyes, allowing his own stresses from the day to melt away as he matches his breaths to his boyfriend’s.

He doesn’t realize that he’s been close to dozing off until the human pillow beneath him suddenly startles and he hears Alec draw in a sharp breath.

“Shit, Magnus—”

“I know,” Magnus mumbles around a yawn. He tightens his hold around Alec’s waist and nestles his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. “I cancelled.”

Contrary to what he was aiming for, his words only serve to make Alec tense more.

“What? Why?”

Magnus sighs and lifts his head, puts his chin on Alec’s shoulder. The hazel eyes that peer down at him do so through a thick curtain of sleep and rapidly building apprehension.

“Because, although I stand by that their lamb chops are very possibly worth dying for, you need to _rest_ , darling.” His fingers stroke lazily down Alec’s side. “We’ll go next week.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or whenever you are awake enough to be able to appreciate fine cuisine.”

Although he is only teasing, Alec drops his head back onto the pillow with an unhappy sigh. His gaze is intense enough on the ceiling that Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if it managed to pierce right through it.

“Magnus, this was important to you…”

“ _Alexander_ ,” Magnus scoffs, rolling his eyes. He leans up and places a quick kiss on Alec’s jaw—delighted at the light blush that appears on his boyfriend’s cheeks, even after all this time. “You must know by now that _you_ are so much more important.”

Alec clears his throat, shrugs awkwardly.

“Yeah, well, still,” he says, because Magnus’s man is stubborn and has a guilt complex the size of North America. Or possibly the world. “I’m sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head, repositions himself with his cheek against the warmth of Alec’s shoulder.

“I get to have you all to myself the entire evening, night, and morning. I assure you that I’m more than happy with this arrangement.”

Alec sighs, body finally starting to relax. It’s defeat rather than acceptance, Magnus knows, but he’ll take it.

“This couch is way too small for this,” Alec mumbles some time later, when half of the loft is bathed in shadows. 

Magnus hums agreement. He lazily fingers the hem of Alec’s shirt.

“Do you want to move to the bedroom?”

Alec groans.

“Does it involve actual moving?”

Magnus chuckles and kisses the side of his throat.

“I’m afraid so.”

Alec emits a sound that, had it been anyone else, Magnus would’ve definitely called a whine. He bites his lip to keep from laughing but, judging from the way Alec scoffs, he isn’t very successful at hiding his amusement.

It might not be the evening Magnus had planned for them, but then, he never planned for the marvel that is Alexander Lightwood in the first place, and as his boyfriend pulls him closer, sleepily nuzzling into his hair with a mumbled _I love you_ , what Magnus feels beyond all else, is lucky.


End file.
